


Angels and Devils

by hightechzombie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Humour, Office wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightechzombie/pseuds/hightechzombie
Summary: One could refer to Moira's escapades as "pranks". Angela preferred to call it "passive-aggressive psychological warfare".The thing with wars is that they are usually fought by two sides and Angela intended to deliver.





	Angels and Devils

Angela was a person, who preferred to see the best in people and to hope for the best in all situations. After all, an optimistic outlook was crucial for her work. The patients deserved to be treated by a specialist, whose demeanor radiated a "Everything will be fine" attitude and who could lead by example when it came to being positive.

But Angela was also a scientist and therefore was forced to face the facts of this world. Sometimes, one had to develop a certain intuition for trouble. One could even say, become a little paranoid.

It was the hair on her work desk. Just a single long and deeply brown hair. A more thorough examination showed a few more, smaller hairs in the vicinity of her chair and the stack of papers on her desk.

One could think of several reasons for this. Winston could have wanted to check up on Mercy and experienced an unexpected period of shedding. McCree came over and began tearing his hair out for some unfathomable reason.

But deep down, Angela knew the truth. It was _her_.

There were footsteps behind her, which stopped. Angela did not have to turn around to recognize who it was.

"Morning, Angela."

 _Moira O'Deorain._ This amused smile, the way of drawing out the words and the assessing look that she always sent Angela's way! The woman thrived on provocation - especially veiled one.

"You look troubled, Angela. Are you searching for something?" Moira looked over Angela, who was half-standing up from having examined the floor, while languidly caressing the pet in her arms.

It was a bunny. A long-haired one with brown fur. Looking at the playful sparks in Moira's eyes, Angela could almost scream.

"Moira. Are you quite certain it's a good idea to bring animals to an lab environment?"

With the swipe of a hand, Moira dismissed these words.

"Where else would I bring them? After all, they are _lab_ animals." Another smirk. "And I am taking good care of them."

"Ah, of course." Angela forced a smile, without putting much effort into making it look natural. "You must have work to do. I will get to mine right away as well. See you around, Moira."

With that Angela turned away and started sorting out papers on her desk. It was all that she could do, without throwing herself at Moira with a pencil in hand. With barely held composure, Angela waited for Moira to depart before quietly losing it.

Moira knew Angela preferred eating at her desk! Moira also knew that Angela hated messes! Or people touching her desk! Particularly, when they left marks! So Moira brought over her bunny so she could desecrate Angela's holy space...

Did Moira also read her research? Did she take something as well? Moira very well could have done that - but she also could have just sown this seed of doubt and discomfort to drive a competitor insane! Moira's little games were borderline sociopathic. Why Moira had decided to make Angela's life hell was...

Angela noticed something irregular about one of the page. The corner seemed crumpled and a little wet...

Moira's beast had CHEWED on Angela's work...!

With the pulse in her ears and an pencil in her fist, Angela considered walking over to Moira's office, slamming the door open and going for the jugular...

Quickly, Angela squashed that thought. This was beneath her both as a medical professional and an ethical individual.

But as a woman with only so much patience and disinfectant spray, Angela was thirsting for revenge.

***

 

In a stressful field of combating international terrorism and researching improved medical treatments, it was easy to become overwhelmed with the neverending avalanche of tasks and the high cost of failure.

But worry not! With sufficient preparation, regular schedule and the semblance of a sane work-life balance, it was possible to master the 12-hour workday and remain healthy and optimistic. One of the key elements was, of course, tasty and well-crafted meals.

Angela’s secret weapon was a recipe shared by her former roommate at the Heidelberg University. First you take a head of lettuce and cut it into narrow stripes. After that, dice two medium tomatoes, an avocado and cooked salmon into small cubes, before moving to making the dressing. This was the part where Angela allowed herself to be creative and…

Anyway. What did it matter? What did anything matter in life? One spends every waking hour protecting the world from another Omnic crisis and the press showers you in criticism. One spends every week patching agents together and advising them on how to avoid getting hurt so grievously, but they always come back with the same injuries as before.

Another example would be, when one spends an entire morning preparing one’s favorite salad dish, puts them into the shared fridge only to discover at midday… that the fridge is as empty and devoid of salad, as your soul is devoid of joy and hope.

Grief takes many forms. Standing in front of the open fridge, Angela couldn't help but vividly remember a remarkable conversation she had with her supervising professor, with whom she had taken a short stroll through the university gardens. During this sun-filled day Professor Schwartz had shared with Angela, how many hopes she placed on Angela’s shoulders and how much Angela could accomplish with her talent and drive to help humanity…

Angela was currently reminiscing about the fresh green of the budding leaves and the radiant blue of the sky, just as sound of high heels snapped her out of daydreams.

With an absent-minded smile, Angela turned towards the newcomer.

“Ah, Moira. How nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, Angela. Likewise.”

Moira’s voice was as warm as fresh apple pie. She was carrying her bunny with one gentle arm, and feeding it lettuce with the other.

“How is your pet doing, Moira?” said Angela, having closed the fridge door and stepped closer towards Moira.

“Oh, it’s doing fabulously. I think it’s-” A slow and amused smirk. “-the diet that is doing most of the work.”

“I see,” said Angela, smile unfaltering. “Mind if I try?”

Without waiting for an answer, Angela took the lettuce out of Moira’s hand and without breaking off eye contact, ate it.

For a few moments, only the barely perceptible sound of chewing disturbed the silence.

“A little wilted, I think,” said Angela. “You should have kept it in the fridge. Salads are such delicate things.”

“I won’t argue with that,” said Moira, visibly out of balance. She looked quizzical at Angela, as if trying to figure out what was happening here.

“I will have to get to work, now that I have had my lunch. Will be seeing you later!”

With that, Angela lightly breezed past Moira and headed towards her lab. The memory of Professor Schwartz’s motherly guidance hadn’t quite left Angela and it invoked a feeling of refreshed strength.

It was particularly last part of Schwartz’s advice that sticked with Angela the most. Formerly, Angela was a little off-put by these last words that Schwartz had uttered on that nice walk. But with time, Angela was beginning to understand the wisdom of that parting advice.

“If anyone stands in your way,” said Schwartz, staring at the rising gladiolus planted in the flower bed. “Don’t hesitate to crush them.”

 

***

 

Angela was a single-child. As most single children are, she was pampered and guarded from the dangers of life, which was why Angela was sometimes forced to pry open some prison bars to experience dangers of life firsthand. As a reward, Angela discovered that staying properly hydrated was key to avoiding hangovers and that most mechanical locks are rather primitive and easy to open, when armed even with an amateurish lockpick.

Of course, Angela left her scoundrel teenage past long behind her. Even if she hadn’t, it was close to impossible to open the military grade locks fastened on the laboratory doors. But it was so much easier to create a small snag, that prevented a lock from opening properly, until rapidly snapping to the left. If being less than careful, it could easily break a fingernail.

The curse at 7.23 in the morning confirmed that the mechanism had worked as intended. Angela did not stand up to check on Moira, nor did she have the intention to gloat at any point of the day.

At the end of the work day, though Angela finally headed to the entrance of Moira’s lab, illuminated the area with a flashlight and careful picked up the piece of fingernail. A little gross, but it’s all in the name of science.

Next week, the first prototype was assembled in the lab and causing quite a stir. Winston was highly interested in this example of fine engineering but remained unconvinced as to what medical advantages this procedure could possibly field. Tracer giggled that the vibrations felt ticklish. Genji seemed doubtful that the device could harm the protective coating on his limb replacements even from a distance but left nonetheless when Angela asked him to.

When Angela was fetching coffee, she saw her work colleague in the corridor. Moira wasn’t answering to the chipper greeting, massaging her temples and seemingly too focused on her own discomfort to answer.

One has to say, Angela was a little disappointed in Moira. As a fellow scientist, Angela would have expected for Moira to locate the source of discomfort far earlier, but only on the third day did Moira march into Angela’s laboratory, demanding for the device to be shut off.

“But that’s a running experiment, Moira dear. I can’t possibly just shut it off.”

“It’s a nuisance without any scientific value whatsoever,” drily stated Moira.

“Either of us can hardly be the judge of that? But do not worry; I will finish my paper in about a month and submit it to Academic Medicine and once it has been peer-reviewed, we can make safe assumptions about its scientific value…”

“It’s hindering my own work!” fumed Moira. “I will go to the Director if this thing is not shut off!”

“The Overwatch administration are busy people, as you know, Moira. They may very well find time to listen to you, but when on earth will they find time to inspect the laboratory conditions in here? After all, you are the only one who complains about this device out of many other visitors…”

“...and your animosity towards me is not a big secret” added Angela in her own mind. It seems that Moira made the link herself as well.

A muscle twitched on Moira’s face, as she impassionately observed Angela. She was tapping her fingers against the doorframe, as she most likely thought of a way out of this predicament or simply considered where to bury Angela’s corpse.

“Either way, Moira,” said Angela. “I am not against finding a compromise. Maybe I can find a frequency that is less annoying…”

Twirling the knob, Angela found a frequency that was leaving an uncomfortable sensation in her ears as well.

“This doesn’t do it, does? Let me change it quick…”

Deliberately, Angela chose the exact frequency that delivered the most effect in her experimentation.

At first nothing happened. Moira warily eyed Angela, head tilted to the side. Likely, she was losing patience and wouldn’t play along for much longer.

Then there was a cracking sound, barely audible. But Moira twitched and slowly raised her hand to examine it.

There was a deep crack in one of the unfathomably long fingernails, which were covered in a thick layer of nail paint. Then, the fingernail broke and fell to the ground.

Moira didn’t make a sound, but Angela could see the infernal screaming in her eyes. Responding to the tension in Moira’s body, Angela quickly changed the frequency to the headache inducing one.

“Sorry, Moira, it seems that one didn’t work out. Maybe I could…”

“Turn it off,” uttered Moira, taking one step forward.

Angela assessed her chances. She had considered the possibility of this escalating in physical conflict and gone along anyway, but she’d hate to engage in combat. Not as if Angela wouldn’t enjoy throwing a punch into Moira’s smug face, but their both reputation would be tainted by having a scuffle on Overwatch premises.

Angela changed the frequency again, to one that would cause strong discomfort if not pain. Moira winced, but did not stop her approach.

“I said _shut it off_ ,” said Moira again. She sounded utterly calm and glacially cold.

Angela obliged. With that, Moira stopped two steps away from Angela. Her figure loomed over the other woman, but Angela was not afraid.

They stared at each other in silence.

Then Moira’s lips formed a thin smile:

“I knew you were a cunt, after all.”

Moira sounded… delighted? Before Angela could process that, Moira stated drily:

“Shut this thing off and never use it again. I will make my own… adjustments.”

With that, Moira rapidly turned around and stalked out of the room. Angela was left stunned.

Was this a peace offering?

And did Moira actually just call her a “cunt”?!

God almighty, Angela needed a drink. She opened the third compartment in her desk with a key, took out the whiskey bottle and poured it into the empty coffee mug. For some while, Angela stared blankly at a wall while holding the mug.

“I can’t believe it,” said Angela to no one in particular. “She’s actually my type.”

Angela downed the whiskey in one gulp before pouring another.

 


End file.
